


Anything I Want

by glitterburn (orphan_account)



Category: Pawns and Symbols - Majliss Larson
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-24
Updated: 2010-11-24
Packaged: 2017-10-13 08:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/glitterburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Tahrn, danger lurks everywhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything I Want

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sandrine Shaw (Sandrine)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandrine/gifts).



The stillness of the grove called to her. Jean’s spirits rose as she pushed her way through the young shoots of _seyilt_ trees towards the pool, her favourite place on Tahrn. She felt the cares of the day fall away with each step, and banished the thoughts still whirring through her head concerning the various strains of _quadrotriticale_. Her work here was desperately important, but despite the urgency she couldn’t work non-stop, not even if she wanted. R &R, she’d told a puzzled Aernath, were just as necessary to the well-being of a civilisation. She needed to relax and unwind, needed to blank her mind and simply enjoy the world around her.

This morning she’d been awake before first light, examining the new seed crop in the fields and then running tests in the lab. Her eyes felt gritty and she yawned several times, sucking air into her lungs in an attempt to restore her equilibrium. Like most Klingon holdings, Tahrn had a higher gravity than her home world of the Aldebaran Colony, and though she’d adjusted to the gravitational effects on her slim, human body since her capture, there were still times when she felt sluggish and tired.

Today was one of those times. Jean passed a hand through her hair, feeling the warmth of the sun on her scalp and over her fingers. A pleasant spring afternoon, the most perfect Tahrn could offer. She stepped through the rustling ground-crawler bushes and emerged into the clearing. The air shimmered, ripe with the flit of insects and the delicate trills of birdsong.

Sunlight sparkled from the surface of the pool in the middle of the grove. Its surface lay still, and Jean thought how inviting the water looked. On other occasions she’d seen gentle, orange-furred animals at the water’s edge, drinking and feeding from the pool with their forepaws. Surely it wouldn’t hurt if she splashed her face with the same water, just to feel the cool, natural flow from the pool rather than the warm, slightly brackish water that emerged from the taps inside the compound.

Jean crossed the clearing and crouched on the low bank beside the pool, shuffling her feet a little to balance. In the dried mud beneath her were the prints of several different creatures. She studied them for a moment, thinking she should ask Tsuyen more about the planet’s fauna, then she put the thought aside and plunged her hands into the water.

It was colder than she’d expected. She gasped, but kept her hands submerged, enjoying the creep of cold over her skin. Cupping her hands and closing her eyes, she splashed water over her face then stroked the delicious chill over her nape. With one hand she unfastened the collar of her drab, sexless worker’s uniform and shivered at the trickle of water down her neck and along her spine.

She folded her hands over her knees and watched the ripples subside, the pool’s surface smoothing out. Gazing beyond her reflection, Jean saw aquatic creatures turn and dart in the depths. Some looked like fish, while others had colourful frills and many legs and were like nothing she’d ever seen before. Moving closer to get a better look, her shadow fell over the water and the creatures scattered. She sighed and chuckled at her foolishness, then froze when she heard the cracking of twigs behind her.

A strong, feral stink blotted the air. Her heart pounding, she raised herself to her feet with slow deliberation and turned cautiously, her body on alert. In the clearing with her stood a _slean_ , the vicious predator of the Tahrnian grasslands. It stared at her, its furred, muscular shape drawing back while it assessed her potential as menace or prey. Its nostrils flared and its mouth opened, revealing two rows of needle-like teeth.

Jean groped for her knife. She’d started carrying it outside the compound since that hateful morning when Tirax had found her and threatened her, but now her hand found only the empty sheath. Startled, her heart beating a rapid rhythm, she took her gaze from the _slean_ and looked at the dried mud on the edge of the pond. There—her knife lay just out of reach! It must have slipped from its guard when she’d crouched down earlier. Cursing her lapse of attention, Jean took a slow sidestep towards the blade.

The _slean_ growled, its bright eyes gleaming with vile intelligence as it tracked her movements.

She edged closer, hand outstretched.

The _slean_ gathered itself on its haunches and sprang at her with a roar.

Jean threw herself backwards into the pool, a scream torn from her as the cold water grabbed at her and pulled her under. She sank, the weight of her clothes keeping her beneath the surface. She scrabbled about frantically, trying to find the bottom so she could push against it. Weeds slipped through her fingers. Shapes spun past her, the terrified dart and shine of fish. She floundered, the urge to breathe hurting her lungs. With an enormous effort, she kicked upwards and broke the surface.

The _slean_ snapped at her, its front legs in the pool, water splashing, its great head swinging about. The double row of teeth came closer, the creature’s fetid breath washing over her. Jean recoiled. Trying to stay afloat, she kicked off her boots and wrenched at her work trousers. The _slean_ made a wild lunge at her and she twisted to one side. Her knife glittered on the bank, too far away to be of use. She took a deep breath, knowing she had to reach her blade or die trying.

A yell, a rain of Klingon curses, and the _slean_ reared back with a bellow, a long, sharp blade jammed into its tail. Jean stared, astonished, as Tirax ran from the trees and pulled out the knife before taking up a defensive stance. The _slean_ lumbered around the face this new threat. Taking advantage of the distraction, Jean struck out for the opposite bank. She dragged herself from the water and pulled off the remainder of the uniform that clung sodden to her frame. Stripping down to the leotard-type Klingon undergarments left her arms and legs free so she could fight.

The _slean_ had the measure of its opponent now and had backed Tirax against a stand of young _seyilt_ trees. The _seyilt_ bent beneath his weight but he refused to slip between the trunks and make his escape. Instead he stood firm, a look of intense concentration on his face as he slashed at the _slean_ ’s mouth, making it even angrier. The beast had numerous shallow stab wounds on its neck and shoulders, blood matting its fur, but it still held the advantage.

Jean didn’t stop to think twice. Darting around the pool, she grabbed her knife and hurled it at the _slean_ ’s left eye.

The beast reared up onto its back legs with a deafening screech. Black liquid poured from its eye, and the _slean_ shook its head repeatedly, pawing at its face. Its wounded cries echoed around the grove as it backed away. Tirax recovered himself and ran forward to stab the animal again. The _slean_ roared, then turned and fled, crushing the _seyilt_ and blundering through the bushes, its thumping footfalls fading into silence.

It took some time for Jean to compose herself. Her limbs shook and she had trouble catching her breath, but at length she thought she could speak. Even though the words she rehearsed stuck in her throat, she had to say them. She went towards Tirax. “You saved me. Thank you.”

He stood half turned away from her, gaze fixed on the trail of destruction, every muscle in his body tensed and hard. His hand clutched at the hilt of his knife, fingers still working as if he longed to sink the blade into something else. She went to him and reached out, dropping her hand to cover his restless fingers.

Tirax went rigid when she touched him. His face seemed to set and his hand stilled, clenched and immobile on the knife.

She hadn’t expected such a reaction. Jean felt a tremor go through her, a visceral response to the danger that had just passed, danger that they’d faced together. She wanted him to acknowledge it, and when he continued to ignore her, continued to be as cold as stone, she wanted to shake him into life. She wanted him to fling curses and insults at her in retaliation. It would be so much easier to shout and scream at him, the way she’d done the first time they’d encountered one another in this grove. But Tirax remained solid, unmoved by her touch, and when he spoke his voice was calm.

“No, human. You saved me.”

“Tirax.” Jean let her hand travel up his arm to clutch at his sleeve. “My knife had fallen loose. If you hadn’t been there, the _slean_ would have killed me.”

“And for dereliction of my duties, Kang would have killed me in far more creative ways than being torn apart by a _slean_.” He exhaled, a heavy sound tinged with anger. “You saved me.”

Jean realised the direction of his worries. No doubt he thought that this episode had placed him in her debt, bonded him to her as she was to Kang. She shook her head, wanting to dispel the notion. “It wasn’t like that. You distracted it for me; I distracted it for you. The beast lives to hunt another day. No winners. All three of us had a lucky escape.”

“Is that what you believe, human?” He turned towards her, standing too close for comfort, but somehow she took comfort from his proximity. _Reaction_ , she told herself; _it’s just a normal reaction to shock_. She tried not to flinch when he laid a hand on her hair, then relaxed when she realised he didn’t mean her any immediate harm.

Tirax seemed as dazed by the aftermath as she was, though in a different way. She couldn’t recall ever seeing him so subdued and thoughtful. He stroked her hair, his big hand cupping her skull before he let her hair slide through his fingers. Just before he let go, he pinched the soft strands between thumb and fingers and tugged. Not gently, but not cruelly, either. Curiously. Insistently.

Jean closed her eyes, heartbeat erratic in her throat and a wet rush of need between her thighs as he took a handful of her hair into his fist. Deliberately she jerked her head back, her eyes watering with the sudden smart of pain. Surprise flashed across his impassive features, and he copied her, pulling at her hair until she groaned. She felt heavy, leaning against him, aware of the quickening rise and fall of his breathing. Anger and lust warred in his dark eyes as he bent his head.

“Perhaps you will prefer the embrace of the _slean_ ,” he growled.

“Maybe.” She didn’t trust herself to speak. Tremors became shudders, adrenalin running through her and turning molten. She felt slick, ready, aching. Danger had never been such a potent aphrodisiac for her before, but there was something about this situation, something about Tirax—something that terrified and aroused her at the same time. The vicious _slean_ was a raw memory but Tirax was a known enemy. Her reactions to both threats combined and overran, filling her with confusion and need.

He seized her, pinning her wrists in the small of her back. His arms circled her like bands of steel, bringing her tight against him, just like the last time they’d stood here together. This time, she wasn’t afraid of him. This time, she would take what she wanted.

Jean raised her face, offering and demanding both at once, and he kissed her. It was an angry, bitter embrace, full of dark yearning. Tirax crushed her mouth under his, eating at her, devouring her. She barely had a chance to return the kiss, so she let him lead, tipping her head back further and opening her mouth to let his tongue force between her lips. He made a rumbling sound deep in his throat and surged forward, all hard muscular strength like the _slean_. Jean swallowed a gasp at the thought and bent in his arms, allowing him to maul her.

The hard thrust of his cock stood out beneath the black and gold of his uniform, prodding into the soft skin of her belly like a threat, a promise. He let go of her wrists but she kept them behind her, body straining against him. A flush of heat climbed through her, making her feel even more liquid. The sun and Tirax’s closeness combined to dry the tight leotard undergarment, and now the fabric seemed to chafe, making her crazy.

She moaned aloud as he ran large, brutish hands over her body, grabbing her flesh, squeezing as if to test how strong she was, how much she could take without breaking. Sensation swarmed through her at his touch even as she felt a flicker of the old revulsion, an echo of her fear.

He pushed her down to sprawl on the ground at his feet. Her pride revolted, but a fresh arrow of lust stabbed through her. Jean punched at his leg, half in anger, half in demand. He dropped beside her, as dangerous and unpredictable as a wild beast. Grabbing hold of her legs, he pulled them wide apart and fell on her, his hips shoved roughly against hers, grinding down so hard she felt the ache in her inner thighs as the tendons protested.

Jean dragged at him, catching at his hair over the back of his neck and tugging at it, digging her nails into his shoulders through his uniform, urging him down to kiss her once more.

 _More_. It was the only word running through her head, beating against her awareness. For the first time since she’d arrived on Tahrn, for the first time since the Klingons had taken her prisoner, it was the only word that mattered. _More. I want more. Everything._

Her grip tightened, must have been painful even for a warrior like Tirax, but he didn’t flinch. He kept kissing her, his tongue working in her mouth, her lips bruised and wet, his domination total as he ripped at her clothes and tugged the stretchy black leotard aside. His fingers stabbed at her, plunged into the hot, wet hunger of her pussy, driving up to the knuckle. Jean cried out, her back arching, breasts pressing hard into his chest. She tucked her face against his throat, heart hammering, breath gasping, inhaling the greedy scent of aroused male Klingon. Excited, her thighs slick, she rocked back and forth on his fingers, urging him deeper, demanding more.

She tugged at his uniform, trying to recall how it unfastened. Thwarted and impatient, she reached down and yanked at the trousers, her hand worming inside to feel the heat and strength of his erection. He growled, hips pumping against her, his cockhead swollen and hard. Wetness leaked from the tip, smearing across her skin as it filled her palm.

Jean kept her eyes open and her gaze fastened on Tirax’s face when she took him inside her. She bit her lip, acknowledging the sensation of being stretched and filled. It reminded her of the first time she’d let a man fuck her, anxiety and anticipation and a burning fullness that almost hurt, that tickled her senses, that made her want to bear down and squeeze tight and drain every last drop. The feeling overwhelmed her, so strange and unexpected, her mind plummeting into freefall as he moved on top of her, driving into her with force and fury.

“More,” she said. “Again. More.”

Tirax gave a ragged laugh. “This isn’t about you, human.” He seized her chin in a vicelike grip and pulled her mouth to his. “It’s not about you at all, so shut up.” His breath fanned hot across her face before he kissed her again.

Jean bit at him. “It is about me. It’s all about me. What I want.”

He growled and silenced her with more punishing kisses. With his tongue claiming her mouth and his cock pounding into her pussy, Jean folded into herself and surrendered to him. She forgot the grove, forgot the _slean_ , forgot Kang and Aernath and her work and knew only Tirax, his violence, his anger, the animosity that built between them like orgasm. Darkness swamped her, a black burning flame that twisted and surged within her. She gasped, fingers clawed, nails digging into his arse. His body was all hard muscle and rage, tightly coiled. He was furious with her for needing to be rescued, she knew, but he was furious at himself more.

She smiled, but the smile slid from her face as they ground into one another, neither one giving way. Tirax stabbed his cock deep inside her, holding himself right up against her. This time she wouldn’t let him go, hooking her legs around his hips and locking him in place, her ankles crossed behind him. They rocked back and forth like _seyilt_ in a storm, violent tremors swaying and breaking. Their movements grew wilder, harder and more desperate as they fought for climax. Jean bucked up, rubbing frantically against Tirax as his relentless rhythm increased, the muscles in his body straining. Two more triumphant thrusts and he cried out, a ragged snarl breaking from him as vicious and angry as a _slean_ ’s roar.

Her own climax uncurled, lashing out like the death of a star, pleasure blasting through her. Jean shook with the force of it, a hard, tight orgasm that crashed and burned, leaving her lying in the wreckage.

For a long moment they held onto each other, silence spidering between them. Jean’s head spun and she blinked, sore-eyed, the daylight suddenly so bright it dazzled her. She felt remade, reborn, her body sensitive and aching with stiffness. It seemed only natural to cling to Tirax.

He stayed with her a minute more then pulled away, no longer arrogant and sure of himself but somehow humbled. He put his uniform in order, stared at her for a heartbeat, then strode towards the pool.

Jean sat up and tidied herself as best she could. Her trousers and boots were still in the water, but she could cover herself well enough with her shirt once she retrieved it. She wondered how she’d explain the destruction of her outfit. Tsuyen had sharp eyes and would be able to guess what had happened. Jean blushed, remembering how she’d told the Klingon woman how much she feared and hated Tirax. Nothing had changed, but something had shifted. Love and hate were close bedmates, after all.

She went down to the pool and joined him on the bank. His physical presence no longer cowed her. Not now she knew the pleasure it could bring. How complicated it was, she thought, but yet how easy!

“You will not tell Kang about this.” His words came out oddly, halfway between a command and a request.

Jean paused, letting him believe she was considering his statement. The silence stretched out, radiating taut between them, until the sounds of birdsong filled the quiet.

“Human.” Tirax turned, searching her expression with his hard gaze. “Did you hear me? You will not—”

“I heard you.” Jean allowed a brief smile to curve her lips. “I am Kang’s bond-woman. I belong to him until I earn back my debt.”

Tirax nodded, wariness flickering in his eyes.

“I won’t speak of this afternoon,” she continued, deciding. “Not for my sake, but for yours.”

Understanding lit his features and his mouth twisted into a snarl. “I will not be placed under obligation to you, human! You will not make a mewling pet out of me the way you did with Aernath!”

“Your choice.” Jean shrugged and turned away, but had gone only a few steps when Tirax swung her round to face him.

“I don’t like playing games.”

“Neither do I.” Her eyes narrowed as she fixed him with her gaze. “There were no winners here today, Tirax. No winners—but now the advantage is with me, and I intend to keep it.”

He glowered at her, trapped by his duty and his loyalty, trapped by the consequences of their dangerous union. “Very well.” The words sounded as if they’d been dragged out of him with hooks. “Stay silent about this, and I will do anything you want.”

“Anything I want.” Jean smiled, enjoying her little victory. “I like that. I like that very much indeed.”


End file.
